Deranged Psychotic
by lostsoul512
Summary: "He told me once that if you have to analyze a joke it stops being funny. If that's true then this relationship is the least funny joke I've ever heard."


**A/N: I cant sleep, and I've been having some weird mental crisis with my own sanity, and I have chosen to reflect it into this one shot. I actually think it's turned out alright. So there's that. Besides, who doesn't love a little late night Joker feels? Insert usual disclaimer here. **

You're probably wondering how I got into this mess. To tell you the truth, I've been asking myself the same question for a while now. But I think that's the thing about falling in love. It just sort of happens, all at once, you know? And I am. In love, that is.

I don't know why I am the way that I am, except that maybe love breeds insanity. Love IS insanity, really, this endless cycle of torment and pain and misery.

I haven't slept in a few days, so please excuse me if I'm not making any sense.

Right now, he is sleeping at my side in the bed we share. He is sleeping, and it's the only time I think he ever finds any peace. Because this whole damn world is just dark and broken, and HE is just dark and broken, but when he's sleeping he gets to escape it all. At least for a little bit. Sometimes, I reach over to trail a finger down his pale cheek, and I swear the muscles of his mouth twitch into a smile. At least for a moment. And not his usual sick, sadistic smile, but something a little more…delicate.

He told me once that if you have to analyze a joke it stops being funny. If that's true then this relationship is the least funny joke I've ever heard. And I could probably sit here all night, picking the bit apart line by line, but the fact of the matter is I'm tired. So instead I curl up against his body, repositioning his arm so that it's draped over me, and I try to fall asleep.

Of course, I haven't slept in a few days and I have this unshakable feeling tonight wont be my night either. I keep closing my eyes a little harder, breathing a little deeper. But what it all comes back to is the fact that I can feel his heart beating through his shirt. It's slow and steady and I can predict exactly when the valves are going to fall back into place _thud thud thud_ _thudthudthud. _

Love breeds insanity.

Suddenly I feel his breathing catch, a low murmur escaping his lips. It sounds something like my name, only a groggy, mumbled version of it. I roll over in his arms so that we are face to face, nearly touching. I have to keep blinking or else he shifts out of focus. That happens a lot, things shifting out of focus. Sometimes everything goes blurry and I have to remind myself why I'm here, lying in bed with a deranged psychopath.

His beautiful eyes start to open, just a little, meeting my own gaze. And he smiles, just a little, as he grabs me by the hips and pulls me closer. He is still half asleep, the lucky bastard. I'd have given anything to sleep right then, even just for a little while. Just long enough to escape this stupid abandoned warehouse we're currently calling home.

I'm thinking about how loving him made me crazy. I wonder what made him crazy. I wonder if being crazy is what made him love me. After all, love breeds insanity.

"Harley…" He mumbles again, and this time it's definitely my name. I offer a wistful smile of my own, but his eyes are still closed so he doesn't even see it.

"I'm right here, puddin'," I whispered back, pressing my lips gently against the corner of his mouth. It's funny, I never even notice his scars anymore. I guess it's just that a person is more than their scars. Eventually, when you love someone, you don't even notice their scars anymore.

He smiles too, without ever opening his eyes. Somehow, in the darkness, his lips find mine and kiss me too. It's softer than usual, less demanding and aggressive. It's…delicate. Tender?

These words do not suit him.

Not at all.

Still, I snuggle in closer against him. I press my body against him in every place possible, our foreheads touching, our chests pushed together, our feet all tangled in the mess of stained sheets. Maybe if I'm close enough to him, I can soak up some of his carelessness. Then maybe I'd be able to sleep.

It all comes back to the fact that I haven't slept in days.

I think he has fallen back into his slumber, because his mouth is slightly open and his breaths are nice and shallow. I let out a little sigh, trying to close my own eyes once again. Catch myself wondering if perhaps he is dreaming, wondering what he might be dreaming about. Probably just about some brilliant new scheme. In all of my dreams, when I'm lucky enough to have them, it's me and him far away from this godforsaken town. No Batman to come between us. Just me and him and our love and our insanity.

"I love you," I murmur into the nothingness, letting out a sigh and burying my head against his chest.

In his beautiful, peaceful slumber, he stirs. "Love you too, Harls…"

His gentle words catch me off guard. I know he is most unconscious and unaware of the words he's just uttered to me. Still, it's enough for me. Because our deranged, psychotic love makes perfect sense to me. If that's insanity, then I'll take my diagnosis now, thank you very much.

For the first time in days, I sleep.


End file.
